Jettin' Into The Sunset
by FieryCross
Summary: A story of how East met West. Sparks flew and explosions happened...


Disclaimer: Do I even remotely look lik Joss the All Mighty to you???.*Arches eyebrows.  
  
Chapter One === Jettin' Into The Sunset === Introduction  
  
As Angelus Straker made his way home, there were only two things on his mind, the movie he has just finished, and his life. The former was great, and he enjoyed it immensely, but the latter, it was as far as great could get. In fact, it pretty much sucks. He was classified by those wealthy kids as an 'Rag' since young. To these filthy rich youngsters, Rags are those poor and uncivilized beings living down at the West end of town. Flyers, which were what they termed themselves, thinks that Rags are not even worthy to be in their presence, with the exception of school, they treated Rags the same as they treat garbage. The Flyers come cruising down the West end occasionally, jumping out and attacking a lone Rag if they could spot one, usually in groups.  
  
Angelus knows of at least one person who had suffered that fate. Now, the poor guy is scared of even his own shadow. It didn't take much to spook him then, but after the brutal beating he endured, he changed from the brave young man, to one who was always trembling and nervous. That man is his brother, Ricky. Angelus was still filled with anger at how cruel those 'civilized' people could behave. The five Flyers ganged up and broke his arm, bruising a couple of his ribs, before leaving with a deep slash starting from his temple to his jaw. Ricky will carry that scar forever.  
  
He shook his head, clearing his mind of the awful images imprinted forever in his head. He had a long walk home and no company. It didn't matter much though; he was usually alone when he went to the movies. His friends couldn't believe that the tough ruffian Angelus Straker had a secret penchant for movies and books.  
  
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Angelus was two blocks away from his home when he noticed that the bright red Corvair which had been trailing him for the last few blocks was suddenly getting closer and closer. He hurried his pace, not in the mood for fighting today. But, luck was not with him. Three Flyers jumped out of the car and came towards him. He stuck his hand into his jacket, searching for his switchblade. To his dismay, he seemed to have lost it along the way home. The blade wasn't needed for dealing with those damned Flyers. Angelus wasn't known for being the best fighter in West end for nothing. He fought against odds worse than these and won.  
  
The blond Flyer took a knife out of his back pocket and flicked the blade open. He advanced threateningly towards Angelus, unpleased when he did not see the frightened look on Angelus's face he was aiming for. He was new to Sunnydale and wanted to prove to his friends that he was able to be tough and definitely isn't a sissy.  
  
"Hey there Rag, I think you need a new haircut, it's too spiky for my liking."  
  
Smirking, confident of his ability to be a threat to the still-as-a-statue Rag, he reached out to grab a fistful of Angelus's shirt. Only to have his hand knocked away like an irritating fly. Angelus caught his other hand, which was coming in for a punch, and delivered one of his own. He twisted the Flyer's wrist, kicking him right where it hurt most before releasing the groaning boy. He looked up to see the rest of them stunned speechlessly and raised an eyebrow. The two of them finally regained their senses and angrily ran in this direction, letting a punch fly loose each, only to have them blocked and their hand clamped painfully in Angelus's grip. He gave each wrist a hard pull. The boys' momentum was their downfall. They helplessly surrendered to the grip of gravity, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Angelus gave all three of them a hard kick in their sides, stepping on the blond and continued his way home.  
  
"I knew you could deal with them."  
  
Angelus looked up when he heard the undoubtly pleased voice, only to see his 20 year-old brother, Doyle, standing in front of him, only with Oz, his best friend, Spike, Ricky and James. Oz had been his best buddy as far as he could remember, their tendency for being silent most of the time making them friends. These people were what he considered his gang. He'll die for them, and he knows they would too. They were the Outsiders.  
  
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How was it? It has been some time I wrote a story, with the exceptions of English compositions in school [which doesn't count at all].R n R plz. 


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